Dead Suite Part 6

Sadie planted her feet farther apart and willed the world to stop spinning.

"I'm fine. Ate too much fish stew."

"That's why I never touch the stuff."

He waved the other detective over and the two chatted briefly before Petrovich took a statement from Owen Sorkin and then Sadie.

"Sorry, but we're going to have to impound your car for a couple days," he told Sadie. "Ask your boyfriend to give you a ride."

"He's not my-," Sadie started, but Petrovich had already turned and walked away.

Owen put his hand on her shoulder.

"No problem. I'll drive you."

They had to walk all the way back to Etta's because Owen had been able to find parking for his snazzy BMW M6 coupe directly in front of the restaurant. He opened the door for Sadie and she slid into the plush pa.s.senger seat.

After he'd started up the car she told him her home address and he punched the information into his GPS.

"Sorry you got tied up in this."

"I'm not sorry at all. As a matter of fact, this entire thing was an elaborate setup so that I could have the opportunity to drive you home."

Sadie laughed. "Really? You chopped off someone's finger and put it on my dash?"

"Well, no . . . it's a fake finger . . . got it from a gag shop," he joked. "If I'd known you were going to get all serious and call the police, I would've just flattened your tire or something."

Sadie appreciated that Owen was trying to take her mind off the seriousness of the matter. She glanced over at this handsome man at home in the c.o.c.kpit of this gorgeous automobile and had to ask: "So how come a guy like you is single?"

"Who says I'm single?" he countered, accelerating smoothly into traffic.

"I just a.s.sumed because you've been flirting with me like a s.e.x-crazed rock star," Sadie remarked. "Of course, maybe you're just like that with everyone. Probably the senior ladies crowding the Safeway deli department swoon at your compliments."

He tossed back his head and laughed. As he brought the car to an easy stop at a red light he turned and offered Sadie a look that could only be described as smoldering.

"The old ladies are safe. I'm very select in my attentions." He turned his eyes back to the road as the light turned green. "You fascinate me, Sadie Novak. I'd like to get to know you better. Unless, of course, you're attached. I did ask Rosemary and Rick if you were single. Rick said you were involved and living with someone. Rosemary told me you'd broken up and were no longer together with this guy." He glanced her way. "Which is it?"

"It's . . . complicated," Sadie replied, squirming a little in her luxurious leather seat.

Sadie was uncertain if she was heating up because of the s.e.xual tension, or if it was because the seat warmer was heating her tushy to a toasty temperature. She figured it would be best to just keep quiet the rest of the way. Owen Sorkin had other ideas.

"So what's your story?" he asked.

"What do you mean?"

"I'm sure you didn't grow up telling everybody that you wanted to do trauma cleaning when you got older."

"No. I wanted to be a primary school teacher. And I was."

"What happened?"

Sadie turned and looked out her window as if the sidewalks of Seattle were fascinating.

"My brother shot himself."

"I'm so sorry to hear that," he said sincerely.

"Thanks. It was a number of years ago," she said and didn't add, but it still hurts like h.e.l.l every single day. "Detective Petrovich did the investigation. Afterward I found out that it's the family's job to clean up the mess left behind. Police and EMTs? Not their job. Most people don't realize that until they're faced with their own personal h.e.l.l. So I cleaned up after my brother because there's no way a parent should ever have to wipe their son's gray matter off the bathroom walls of his house." She shrugged and turned to face him. "Then it became my calling. I didn't want other families to have to be traumatized twice when a family member dies. I researched trauma companies, took all of the extensive training required, and opened Scene-2-Clean."

"Wow." He whistled. "That's quite a story. What about the rest of it?"

"What do you mean?"

"The psychic stuff. Your work with the supernatural and Madam Maeva's Psychic Cafe?"

"Maeva's my friend. I already told you that," was Sadie's only response. "Now, tell me what's your story? If that house on West Halladay and this car are any indication, the downturn in the economy isn't biting you in the a.s.s like the rest of us. What do you do?"

"You know what I do." He smiled at her as he cornered onto her street then steered into her driveway. "I buy places, fix them up, and sell them for profit."

"You finished high school and decided to start flipping houses?"

"Well, no. I trained as a software development engineer. Worked a number of years at Boeing."

"A techno geek? No way?"

"Way." He winked at her. "I enjoyed it, but lots of stress. Then one year I used my savings to buy a fixer-upper. Made more profit on that house than I did in six months' work and I enjoyed it more, so . . ." He trailed off.

"So you dropped one career for another. Like me."

"Something like that."

"And Gayla Woods? You work with her a lot?"

"Nope." He cornered sharply and accelerated into Sadie's neighborhood. "Never had a partner before, but we both put bids on the house on Halladay Street and decided that rather than compete on it and drive the price up, we'd share the expenses and profit."

Sadie felt more a.s.sured that he confirmed what Gayla had already told her. Still, she got the feeling there was more to his story. He pulled into Sadie's driveway then, and she thanked him for the ride. She was about to invite him in for a drink but then thought better of playing with fire. She shouldn't give him any encouragement.

"Are you sure you're okay to be alone?" he asked, turning his body toward her in the small s.p.a.ce of the car. "Somebody left you a pretty strong angry message tonight."

"The finger?" Sadie raised her eyebrows. "It wasn't necessarily a threat directed at me. It could've just been meant as a way to taunt the police."

"Really?"

d.a.m.n him! Now she was getting a little freaked about being alone. Then again, she was slightly more freaked out about being alone with Owen.

He reached out and placed a hand on her leg. "You want me to come inside and look under your bed?"

"No." She pushed his hand off her leg and opened the door.

"Fine, but I'll wait until you go inside and check all the rooms before I leave, okay?"

Sadie smiled. "Agreed."

She climbed out of the car and her cell phone rang as she walked toward the house. It was Zack.

"I'm so glad you called," she told him honestly.

"You texted me about a finger on your car? What's that about?"

"It's a long story." She slid her key into the lock at the front door and stepped inside.

"I've had a bad day," Zack answered roughly. "I don't think I can handle one of your long stories."

Sadie flinched like she'd been physically hit by his words. Then she closed the front door behind her and began to flick on the lights in each room as she went.

"I'm sorry if listening to me talk is such a big inconvenience. It seems like everything about me bugs you these days," she bit back.

"Look, I'm working my a.s.s off to pay off my medical bills and help you out with your house. I don't have a lot left over to be touchy-feely with you."

"Excuse me!" Sadie paused with her hand hovering over the light switch in the kitchen. "You are about as untouchy and unfeeling as a guy can get. As a matter of fact, you haven't touched me in months!" She angrily slapped the light switch on and leaned against the wall.

"Look, Sadie, you knew it was going to be like this. I told you that when I got out of Whispering Groves we needed to reevaluate our relationship."

"You did? Because I don't remember the word reevaluate. I remember you saying that you wanted a chance to date and woo me. This doesn't feel like wooing. It feels like you're finding a way to leave."

"I don't know what to say to that."

"Give it to me straight," Sadie demanded, pressing the phone hard to her ear. "I need to know if we're on a break or if we're together."

"Maybe it's not that simple."

"I need it to be black and white. I'm tired of living in the gray area of romance purgatory. You've been home for months but it doesn't feel like you're home at all." There was a painful pause, so she tried to explain herself more. "I need to be able to define what we have, Zack. I feel like I'm out floating around in a nonrelationship, and somewhere between fainting, chopped off fingers, and fishmonger stew my life needs to make sense."

"I have no clue what you just said. If you're looking for a point-blank answer about us right this second, then I guess I have to say that yeah, we're on a break." His tone was needle sharp and it stabbed right through her heart.

Sadie bit the inside of her cheek to stop herself from crying. She waited until she felt she could speak without bursting into tears.

"Fine. Give me some notice when you're back in town so I can be out of the house when you come collect your things." She pinched the bridge of her nose and squeezed her eyes shut tight.

She disconnected before he could respond. She leaned against the kitchen wall and suddenly remembered Owen still waiting in his car. She walked back outside to his car. He rolled down the driver window as she approached.

"Any big bad guys in there?" he asked.

"Nope. They're all in Portland," Sadie replied, pursing her lips.

"Huh?"

"Never mind. Do you want to come in for a drink?"

"I thought you'd never ask."

Inside the house, Sadie introduced Owen to Hairy.

"Wow," Owen said, obviously impressed. "I've never known somebody with a pet rabbit."

Hairy was significantly less impressed with Owen. The bunny hopped away with a look of disdain and, Sadie thought, an accusatory twitch of his whiskers.

"Make yourself at home and I'll get us something to drink. I've got beer, wine, or tequila."

"A beer's fine."

Sadie left him on the sofa while she went to the kitchen. She got them each beers and poured them into gla.s.ses since Owen looked like the type who'd balk at sucking from the bottle.

They turned on some music but mostly they sat in silence in the living room as they drank. Sadie glanced at Owen at the opposite end of the sofa.

What was I thinking inviting him in?

He looked deep in thought and Sadie wondered if he was thinking about her. Specifically, she hoped he wasn't wondering what kind of woman fainted in haunted houses, cleaned crime scenes, helped with ghosts, kept a rabbit as a pet, and attracted maniacs who left fingers on her car as a presents. She felt a sudden need to defend herself.

"Just so you know, I don't usually faint and have people leave me amputated digits as gifts."

"Not to mention your friends showing you that a ghost wrote your name on a wall of my house." He slid down the sofa so they were next to each other. "No wonder you pa.s.sed out. That must've freaked you out."

Actually, that part bothered her the least. She was used to ghosts. It was the living that gave her the w.i.l.l.i.e.s. In particular, having Owen sitting so close that their thighs touched.

"Guess I'll be driving the company van for a few days," she said lightly, just wanting to make conversation.

"At least you have a spare vehicle." It was a small comment but it packed power since it was whispered in a s.e.xy, throaty voice into her ear.

"Yes, well." Sadie cleared her throat. "I have to attend dinner at my mom's house tomorrow and she hates it when I show up in the trauma-clean van."

"I imagine that might be a little disconcerting for a mom to know her daughter deals with trauma all day."

Owen took her gla.s.s of beer from her hand and placed it on the coffee table in front of them.

"Family can be difficult," he continued. "Gayla Woods might be my age, but she reminds me of my mother." He placed small b.u.t.terfly kisses along the side of her throat and Sadie held her breath. "Don't tell her I said so, but my partner's a pain in the a.s.s."

"She's comes across as quite the serious businesswoman," Sadie said, her voice catching as his breath heated up her skin. She began to ramble. "Maybe you should stop buying haunted houses in disrepair then fixing them up for a profit."

"Disrepair, yes. Haunted, no." He nibbled her earlobe and Sadie let out a small moan. Soon they were horizontal on the sofa and Sadie's thoughts were flip-flopping between "Oh my G.o.d, YES!" and "No, no, no . . . what about Zack?"

She pushed Owen away long enough to speak breathily against his lips.

"I was just thinking . . ."

"Well, stop."

Sadie thought that was good advice, and she sighed as he slipped his hand under her shirt and caressed her breast. She reached between them to unb.u.t.ton his shirt, catching a glimpse of a tattoo over his heart under a cl.u.s.ter of blond curls. Sadie unb.u.t.toned his shirt more and pulled it open to see the word "Orcus" in blue over red flames.